


I Think I Look Rather Festive

by MysticMerc



Series: Sherlock Seasonal Cheer [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Jumpers, Christmas at 221B Baker Street, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticMerc/pseuds/MysticMerc
Summary: December 1st: Prompt: You should really take off that seasonal jumper and/or hat and/or pair of shoesJohn and Sherlock





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Seasonal Fucking Cheer Ficathon and I'll be posting a oneshot fic every day this month. Mostly fluff to keep me going over the holiday season before Season 4 airs. I'll try to update at around the same time each day.

“It’ll be a laugh!” Sarah grinned.

John rolled his eyes and tried not to look overly unenthusiastic. After all, it was for charity.

“I’m sure you have _one_ Christmas jumper you could wear. And it’s only for one day,” Sarah nudged his arm.

As much as he loved wearing jumpers, a Christmas Jumper Day at the surgery was not the first thing on his Christmas To Do List. He did have the perfect idea of what to wear, however. Harry had bought him a Christmas monstrosity years ago that was currently buried in the bottom of his wardrobe. Now was as good a time as any to finally wear the damn thing.

“Oh for fu... Fine. I’ll do it.”

* * *

Sherlock mostly spent Friday mornings in the bath, methodically washing his hair, and didn’t usually speak to John except to grunt at him through the bathroom door. So you can imagine his surprise when John returned from work that afternoon.

“What in the world is that... _thing_?” he squawked from his horizontal position on the sofa.

The “thing” was a fluffy ginger colour, covered in a assortment of reindeer heads and snowmen heads and bits of gold tinsel. If he squinted, Sherlock was sure he could see tiny red lights flickering garishly out of the noses of each of the reindeer. It was hideous. And not to mention impractical. Definitely not waterproof and the lights would alert any criminals to their whereabouts. If the frankly awful pattern didn’t first.

“Christmas jumper. It’s Christmas jumper day at work,” John shrugged as he made his way into the kitchen.

He flicked the kettle on and hummed to himself as he made them some tea. It was the beginning of December so Christmas songs had been playing throughout the whole surgery all day.

“Let me burn it.”

“Sherl- No. No, I won’t let you burn this jumper. It was a Christmas present.”

“Yes, from that sister of yours who you haven’t seen for months.”

“I don’t care. It’s my jumper and I’m not letting you burn it just because you don' like it.”

“Well don’t even think of coming in here wearing it.”

The kettle flicked off, John made tea (one black with sugar, one milk without) and he snagged a couple of chocolate biscuits before carrying them into the living room. Hopefully Sherlock would eat a couple.

“Oh, yeah? Well, tell me, genius, how else will I bring your tea to you?” he smirked.

Sherlock sneered at the jumper over the rim of his mug and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll bloody burn it anyway” but John just sipped his slighty too-hot tea. His reaction really was rather amusing.

“I think you’re just being jumper-phobic," he mocked.

* * *

“You’re wearing it again?” Sarah laughed “You do know Christmas Jumper Day is only _one_ _day_.”

John nodded cockily as he walked into the surgery. Today he was wearing the hideous jumper with some bright green Christmas tree socks, well visible above his work shoes to add to his seasonal outfit.

“Sherlock _hates_ it,” he grinned. “He’s even stopped talking to me in an effort to get me to take it off.”

“You’re a cruel man, John Watson.”

* * *

 

Four cases of flu, one case of chicken pox and a surprisingly high six cases of thrush later and John was back in the domestic oasis of Baker Street.

“No.”

John dragged himself over to his armchair and kicked his shoes off, stretching his feet out towards the fire. Sherlock glared at his feet from his own chair and repeated himself.

“No.”

“Pass me the paper would you, Sherlock?”

“No.”

“Well, I suppose it’s nice you’re talking to me again, love. I ordered in some Indian on the way home.”

“No,” Sherlock grunted automatically.

John looked up at him and slowly raised an eyebrow at his childish behaviour. As much as Sherlock pretended to dislike eating, it was rare for him to turn down his favourite curry.  The doorbell sounded downstairs and they could both clearly hear Mrs Hudson puttering about opening the door.

“Hoo, hoo! Boys! I’ve brought your takeaway up for you,” she said, bustling in with the bags. “Just this once, mind. I’m not your skivvy.”

“Thank you, Mrs H,” John beamed up at her. "You're a star."

“No.”

“Oh! Don’t you look Christmassy, John! Doesn’t he look _marvellous,_ Sherlock?” she cooed as she passed them their curry.

“No.”

“Oh, dear. I see you’ve got another one of your famous strops on,” she nattered “You’re not the Christmassy sort, are you?”

“No.”

Mrs Hudson popped a piece of naan bread into her mouth before making her way back down to her own flat. John munched on a poppadom and grinned triumphantly over at Sherlock.

“You’re putting me off my vindaloo,” he grumbled, sullenly.

* * *

John always had Sundays off and, as he’d had no calls from Lestrade, it was looking to be a fairly quiet day. Sherlock had even gone to sleep last night (after forcefully protesting the jumper) but John was feeling mischievous and was wondering how far he would be able to take this. He was sat in his armchair wearing The Jumper, a pair of socks that looked like Christmas pudding and a pair of reindeer antlers on his head that he’d snagged from a pound shop that morning when he’d gone to grab milk.

“You really should take that off,” Sherlock declared, coming out of their room “You look utterly ridiculous.”

“I think I look rather... festive,” John waggled his eyebrows at him.

Sherlock grumbled and collapsed dramatically into the chair opposite him. He ran his fingers through his hair before suddenly stopping to look up at him adoringly through his eyelashes.

“John... Please, would you remove that... 'jumper' please? For me. Please?” he asked softly.

He'd never heard his flatmate say _'please'_ so many times in one go.

“Nope.”

“But, John! I’ll buy you milk! I’ll buy you all the milk and beans in the world!”

“I quite like it. It’s growing on me.”

“I’ll quit smoking!”

“You already have quit smoking! I know you haven’t had a cigarette in weeks.”

Sherlock wracked his brains, tugging at his curls agitatedly. He looked over at his partner wearing that repulsive ensemble with that smug look on his face and groaned theatrically.

“Fine! Wear the damn thing. I don’t know _why_ I stopped burning your ugly jumpers...”

“Because you love me,” John sang.

Sherlock paused his ramblings for a moment.

“Yes. Because I love you,” he sighed.

John gazed at Sherlock over the coffee table and finally threw the antlers on the ground. It was time to put his detective out of his misery.

“Come here, you daft man. Help get this thing off me,” he chuckled softly.

Sherlock nearly leapt at him in his eagerness.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever "published" fic so please please please leave some comments or feedback. I'd really appreciate it. Find me on tumblr at mysticmerc-awesome


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